


All I Do Is Hope

by siriusly_gryffindorable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drunk Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusly_gryffindorable/pseuds/siriusly_gryffindorable
Summary: Dean has a bad habit of getting hammered, hooking up with a nameless girl, and then calling Castiel. And of course, Cas is always going to answer him."Oh can you tell, I haven't slept very wellSince the last time that we spoke, I said:'Please understand I've been drinking again, And all I do is hope.'Please stay"--Mayday Parade





	

Castiel knew, even before his feet hit the floor, what he was flying into. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard his name whispered in a desperate prayer. When he landed in the dark bunker bedroom where Dean Winchester was sprawled half dressed across the mattress, Cas just sighed heavily. Dean stirred at the sound of his arrival, and his eyes immediately found Castiel’s, even in the darkness. Dean smiled broadly and stood from the bed, attempting to saunter over to the angel, but he stumbled over his own feet and caught himself on Castiel’s arms. He huffed and Castiel could taste the whiskey coming off of him.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said smoothly as he righted himself. He moved his hand from Cas’s arm to his neck, stroking his stubbled jaw with his thumb.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel responded tightly and inched back a fraction. He was already feeling guilty about the encounter. If Dean realized that Cas was being cold, it did not deter him. He pressed Castiel backward until he was against the wall and began kissing down Cas’s neck, murmuring amorous greetings. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_The first night that Dean had called out to him, Castiel had burst into the dark motel room, angel blade in hand. The prayer had been so fervent that he knew Dean must be in some kind of trouble. All he found was Dean leaning against the wall in his boxer shorts reeking of booze. He grinned wickedly at Cas before pouncing on him. The pair fell into bed, and Castiel was so overwhelmed with pleasure he ignored the bra still in the sheets and the way that Dean’s chest tasted like cheap perfume. Hours later, once Dean was sated and asleep, Cas left, for lack of anything better to do. He returned when the sun was breaking through the blinds. Dean was dressed and packing his bag gingerly, clearly sore and tired. When Castiel moved into Dean’s space, hand poised to rest on his shoulder, Dean backed away quickly with a grimace. “Personal space, man,” Dean had insisted, before rolling his eyes and chuckling, showing the bra to Castiel. “I’m so beat. Some bar honey rode me into oblivion last night.”_

_For a moment, Castiel thought Dean was being purposefully difficult, attempting to get the angel to contradict him, but the look of pride and pleasure on Dean’s face, coupled with how drunk he’d been, told Cas that Dean had no memory of their night together now that he was sober. And so Castiel decided not to bring it up. Not after that first night, or after the many similar nights that would follow._

_It was not as if Castiel couldn’t make sure Dean remembered what transpired. For heaven’s sake all he had to do was touch him, and Dean would be sober, forced to confront what they were doing with a clear head. But he never did. Castiel told himself that it was an invasion of Dean’s privacy --- that he would never alter Dean without Dean’s express permission. That was true enough, but Castiel knew in his heart that he was afraid Dean would stop calling. Castiel was certain that if sober Dean knew what drunk Dean was getting up to, he would cut Castiel out of his life. And the thought of never having Dean’s hands on him again was more than he could bear. So every time was the last time, and without fail, Dean would call again and Cas would rush to his side. Castiel was disgusted with his own weakness._  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And here he was again. Dean had begun sucking a mark onto a sensitive spot behind Castiel’s ear, pressing his warm body into the angel’s. All of the self-control was being sucked from his body as Dean’s mouth made it’s way back to Cas’s. Dean bit down on Castiel’s lip, and Cas groaned with pleasure. Dean chuckled and put his hand on the belt of Cas’s pants. “Do you have any idea how bad I want you, Cas?” Dean whispered against Castiel’s mouth, sex and alcohol mingling in his breath. Suddenly, Castiel’s mind was very clear. He put both hands on Dean’s chest and pushed him backward. Dean stumbled a little, wobbling dangerously. He plopped down on the bed, “Oh you want to get rough, angel?”

Cas’s head dropped back against the wall and he sighed, rubbing at his eyes – a human gesture he picked up from Dean. “I’m not going to do this tonight,” Castiel barely whispered.

When he opened his eyes, Dean was standing right in front of him. He growled and grabbed Cas by his hips, pulling him flush with his body. “You’re already hard, babe. Don’t lie to me,” Dean whispered as he rolled his hips.

Castiel moaned and buried his face into Dean’s neck, his body betraying him. And then he inhaled, smelling the cloying, feminine scent that clung to Dean’s skin. Castiel put his hands on Dean’s chest. His head screamed to fly away or throw Dean across the room, but instead his eyes found Dean’s and he whispered, “I can still smell her on you…whoever she is.”

Dean rolled his eyes, lips seeking Castiel’s. When Cas turned his face away, Dean groaned in frustration. But Dean was relentless, so he started to kiss up Castiel’s jaw. Stopping to bite his earlobe, Dean whispered, “She didn’t matter.” In the same moment, Dean cupped Cas’s erection through his pants. The angel shuddered and put his hand on Dean’s pushing it away. Dean chuckled and resumed groping with more fervor. “Stop playing hard to get, sweetheart,” he added before latching onto the pulse point in Castiel’s neck.

“Stop it,” Cas said, with no force and only longing in his voice. It would take no effort to leave. He could get out of the bunker and be thousands of miles away in the space of a heartbeat. With the flick of his wrist, he could break Dean’s arm or send him careening into the wall. Castiel had all of the power to make it stop, but none of the strength required to do so. Instead, Castiel sighed and grabbed Dean’s face with both of his hands. “You matter more than anything,” he breathed across Dean’s lips before kissing him hard, pouring everything he had into the kiss. He could feel Dean quivering against him, as Dean slid a thigh between Castiel’s legs.

Castiel broke the kiss to bite down on Dean’s neck, grinding hard against Dean’s thigh. Dean dug his nails into Castiel’s hair, groaning and cursing with pleasure. “God, Cas,” Dean moaned, “I need you.” And with that, Castiel shoved Dean backward until they both fell on to the bed.

 

Castiel dropped into the bunker some time after noon. Sam was seated at a table, open books scattered around his laptop, his fingers tapping rapidly against the keys. “Good morning, Sam,” Cas said flatly, his eyes flitting around the room looking for the elder Winchester.

Sam turned and smiled, “Hey man. It’s good to see you.” He took a long sip of coffee, shutting his laptop. “You have anytime to stick around? Dean and I are heading out on a case and we’d love an assist.”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond when Dean entered the room, freshly showered, but moving stiffly with dark bags under his eyes. “We can hit the road as long as you guys promise to whisper,” he croaked, voice rough and tired. He dropped into a chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Getting black out drunk and having aggressive nameless sex stops being cool after 30, Dean,” Sam said sarcastically in a loud, fake whisper. Dean flipped him off, leaning heavily on the table. “And seriously, I could see those hickeys from a mile away. What are we? Seventeen?”

“Can it, Sammy. I’m a healthy man with healthy appetites,” Dean retorted, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms. He looked up at Cas who was staring at him with wide eyes. The two held eye contact for what felt like ages, and Cas was certain that there was understanding in Dean’s face. But suddenly, he coughed, looked away, “I thought we were over this. You’ve gotta stop looking at me like that, Cas. It’s freaking creepy.”

Castiel’s jaw tightened and he nodded, turning to look at Sam. “I wish I could help you with the case, but I’m needed elsewhere,” Cas said tightly. And he was gone without another word.

Sam picked up his laptop, and looked down at his brother with disdain, “I’m going to pack up. We can leave in 20.” He started out of the room, and without looking at Dean, he added, “You are SUCH an asshole.”

Dean was still looking at the spot where Castiel had been standing. He exhaled, reaching to touch the spot on his neck he knew a hickey had bloomed. “Yeah…I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Part 2 The Light Of Your Company](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9212312)
> 
>  
> 
> [Part 3 Stay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9294068)


End file.
